


Acting Lessons

by sasha_b



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With enough drink, Athos can play any part in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acting Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> I like to put the lackey's from Dumas' books in to the show versions; they are too fun not to use.

Athos loves his drink. Especially when things go the way they've been going, and he can't function save to drink and drink and drink some more, until he's convinced he's part of the furniture that dots the tavern and can disappear at an instant. He slouches and pulls his hat over his eyes and with the wall at his back, _becomes_ the smokey, dirty wood that makes up the extremities of this place he knows too well.

Brandy, wine, then cheap beer that makes his head pound _Anne, Anne, Anne_ until Grimaud silently comes to retrieve him at the suggestion of Porthos; sometimes d'Artagnan is with the lackey, but most times it's silent Grimaud, whom Athos has always commanded to keep his mouth shut unless spoken to.

They're weaving their way to Athos' apartments (Athos is weaving; Grimaud is holding onto his arm and guiding) when Athos says "I am an excellent chair."

Grimaud says nothing, merely cocking one eyebrow - the one away from Athos, so his master and drunken companion can't see the expression. He's afraid Athos might see it as pity or something else entirely that might bring on a scathing word and Grimaud has been silent for the many years he's been with Athos for a reason. No matter that Athos commands it.

Athos makes it to his bed chamber and collapses, dirty boots smudging the coverlet with the horrid detritus of the garrison yard and the Paris streets. Grimaud leaves him there after fixing the pillows and slipping his master's hat and jacket from him. He daren't try for the boots; the last time that had happened, Grimaud had had a black mark on the seat of his trousers for days.

Athos lays on the bed, doing his best to be the quilt he's laying on - doing a damn fine job of it, until he begins to think he's _Anne's_ coverlet and would he do as good a job of that as he does of being the "head" of the musketeers - as the oldest and most experienced, he'd taken on that role - without drinking.

He fishes for the wine bottle under his bed and after several guzzled sips, sinks into the bed, becoming the shadow he's always preferred to any other part he's played, save that maybe of the lovestruck Comte de la Fere, who's long lost to him, now.

No amount of wine could ever bring that performance back.


End file.
